


Something To Live For

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The group is resting after another long day on the road, still hurting from the losses that just keep coming.  When the reader slips outside to get some space, Daryl isn’t far behind, and they quickly discover that they both have a reason to carry on living.





	Something To Live For

**Author's Note:**

> This one was an anonymous request for a sweet Daryl x reader one-shot, where he confesses his love for her. I’ve got to admit, I struggled to write a scene where Daryl confesses his love whilst still being… y’know, Daryl, but this is my attempt. Just a short one this time, with plenty of fluff. Happy reading!

‘Whatcha doin’ out ‘ere?’  The gravelly tones of Daryl Dixon came from behind you, breaking you out of your reverie as you rocked back and forth on the old wooden swing that hung from the tree in the yard.  The house that the group were making camp in for the night cast the garden into shadow, and a cool breeze ghosted over your skin.  You’d been on the road for weeks now, and the atmosphere was sombre, though the discovery of somewhere with a roof to sleep under had lifted spirits temporarily.

‘Just needed a break,’ you explained, keeping your gaze focused on the fields that stretched out before you, the long grasses dancing in the whispers of wind, lifting your feet from the ground when you felt large hands against your back, giving you a gentle push.

‘Yeah, I know the feelin’.  Ya shouldn’ wander off on yer own though.  Ain’t safe.’

‘I’ve got my gun,’ you reassured him.  'And I stayed within earshot.’

You often split off from the group, enjoying the quiet and solitude, as much as Rick chastised you for it.  You knew you weren’t ever in danger though, always feeling the tingle of the archer’s stare on your back, knowing he was tracking you, looking out for you.  

You considered yourself to be close to Daryl, surprising really since he rarely spoke to anyone if he could help it, but you felt there was a connection between you and you knew he sensed it too.  You’d both grown up in small towns, with families whose reputations had slammed a lot of doors in your faces.  You’d both found yourselves as outsiders, your surnames cutting you off from your neighbours, whilst your quieter natures distanced you from your own flesh and blood.  You’d seen his scars, knew he’d had it worse than you, but you still understood each other on a base level, and you were glad he was around.

‘One o’ these days I ain’t gon’ be here to keep an eye on ya, y'know.  Ya gotta be more careful, stop takin’ risks.’

‘You going somewhere?’ you asked, stilling the motion of the swing, and twisting round to look at him.

'Ain’ plannin’ on it, but ya never know what’s gon’ happen.’

You got what he was implying and sighed, turning back to the view and letting him resume pushing you, the motion causing the ropes to creak quietly.

'I’m tired, Daryl.’

'Ya wan’ go get some rest?’

'No.’  You shook your head.  'I’m tired of losing people.’

Strong arms came around you, holding you still, cradling you against a broad, solid chest.  Your breath caught in your throat at the physical contact, something you’d not seen Daryl offer to anyone except perhaps baby Judith.  You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against your face as you turned your head to the side, inhaling the intense leather scent of his vest.  

'I don’t want to lose you,’ you whimpered, realising just how alone you would feel without him around.  You had other friends within the group, notably Maggie and Sasha, but they were different to you, their experiences and outlooks on life varying wildly from your own, and it had a tendency to make you feel very isolated.  When that happened, you’d always zone out, moving your attention away from the conversation, your eyes seeking the archer, looking for comfort in his crooked smile. His hold on you tightened, and you found yourself turning, pushing yourself up to kneel on the wooden board of the swing seat so that you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.  It had been a long time since anyone had held you, and the sensation brought tears to your eyes, forcing your need to acknowledge your bond with this man.  'You feel like home.’

He stiffened slightly in your embrace, before you felt him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.  'Ya feel like home shoulda felt like.’

'Daryl-’

'Ya know I look out for ya, dontcha?’

'I know.  I feel you watching me.’

'How come you don’ never say nothin’?’

You pulled back from him and shrugged.  'Figured if you wanted to, you’d just come and speak to me.’

He grunted.  'Never wanna disturb ya.’

'You can always talk to me,’ you insisted, noting his nod and the small smile that passed across his features.  'Thank you though, for keeping me safe.’

'Ain’ nothin’.  Jus’ wanna be there for ya, y'know, whatever ya need.’

'I just need you to be okay, to be here.’

'I’ll try my best.’

His eyes were locked on yours, the icy blue hypnotising, drawing you in until your foreheads were resting against each other, and you could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

'Daryl?’ you whispered, unsure what you were asking, what it was that you wanted to say, but needing to feel his name on your lips.  

'I care about ya, Y/N.’

'I know.  I care about you, too.’

'I love ya.  Wanted to tell ya, jus’ in case.’  His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but you heard the words and a feeling of inexplicable serenity washed over you.  ’M'sorry.’

'Don’t be.  I want to know you, Daryl Dixon,’ you confessed.  'You make me want to carry on living.’

His lips brushed yours tentatively, soft and questioning, his scruff grazing against your skin.  You sighed contentedly against his mouth, feeling him deepen the kiss in response, sinking into you, his fingers coming up to lace into your hair.  As his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, you slipped your hands up his chest to grasp the collar of his shirt, refusing to let him pull away, wanting to breathe him in, needing to lose yourself in the moment for a bit longer.  When he finally broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes found yours, and you felt a sense of belonging unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life, even before the dead started walking.  

'Let’s keep on livin’ for each other then, alrigh’?’


End file.
